


Worth the Wait

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Aromantic Character, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Conversations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Sexual References, slight BDSM references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran asks Moriarty about his past intimate encounters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth the Wait

    Moriarty sprawls back against the sofa, humming softly to himself, his eyes half-closed while he taps out the rhythm to accompany his humming upon the arm of the sofa with his fingers. Moran lies upon the same sofa, his head resting on the professor’s stomach as he looks up at the ceiling. In times like this, when things have gone well for them and he is contented and relaxed after the consumption of a good cognac, Moriarty is most amenable to being used as a pillow. Moran wonders though too if the professor might also be amenable to speaking on a certain topic that has concerned him for a while now. Moriarty remains a rather private man, not prone to divulging much information about his family or past even to Moran, but then Moran rarely ever asks him of such matters. Perhaps then if he _was_ to ask Moriarty might open up to him a little more.

    “Professor.” He glances up at Moriarty, who opens his eyes and looks down at his companion.

   “Hmm?”

   “Tell me about your past…” Moran screws up his face momentarily as he ponders how to phrase this. Customarily he would be more forthright and even coarse in his language, but when referring to the professor’s prior personal life then he feels a certain amount of delicacy is required, at least initially. “ _Physical encounters_.”

    Moriarty raises an eyebrow at him. “Physical encounters? Do you mean my amateur boxing career?” He smiles slyly, delighting in the way in which Moran blushes a little. The colonel tries so hard sometimes not to offend him in some way, couching certain terms in the daintiest language when in fact the professor has no particular objection to the use of coarser terminology so long as the setting is appropriate. It might be ridiculous if it wasn’t incredibly endearing.

    “No sir, I mean your… You know what I mean.”

    “Yes, my dove, I do, but I’d still like to hear you express it.”

    Moran rolls over so that he can look at Moriarty without being upside down. “All right.” He grins slyly. “The people you’ve _fucked_ ; tell me about ‘em.”

    “What’s to tell?”

    “How many there were, for starters.”

    “Are you jealous, Sebastian?” Moriarty grins. “Perhaps you are thinking of hunting them all out and disposing of them, hmm?”

    Moran snorts. “Why’d I be jealous of _them_?” Although perhaps he is a bit, deep down; perhaps he once had hoped the seemingly entirely celibate professor had no sexual experience at all and that he would be Moriarty’s very first partner.

    “Why indeed?” Moriarty brushes a lock of hair back off Moran’s forehead. “Fewer than the number of your past conquests,” he says after a brief pause.

    “That hardly narrows it down.”

    “Am I to be allowed no secrets from you?”

    Moran glances up at him and rolls his eyes slightly. “You have plenty of secrets from me, Professor. I don’t know what the hell you get up to in that study of yours half the time.”

    “Your total lack of interest in my studies is _not_ tantamount to me keeping secrets from you.”

    “Yeah, all right, but you still wouldn’t want me barging in asking what you’re doing.” Moran settles himself against Moriarty’s stomach again. “You know so much about me; it’s hardly fair I know so little of you, so, tell me, was it less than twenty?”

    “Certainly.”

    “Less than ten?”

    “Yes.”

    “Less than _five_?” Moran, though he knows the professor well enough, cannot keep a hint of incredulity out of his voice. He could have gone through five different partners in a week in the past and though it’s not impossible for him to grasp that some people are simply not that interested in sex, sometimes he does momentarily forget that not everyone has his appetites (or, indeed, his success in seducing people).

    Moriarty presses his lips together, almost pouting, signifying he will not answer this line of questioning further, though he raises both eyebrows at Moran as if daring him to continue with the questions still. Moran understands then he is expected to change the direction of the conversation slightly.

    “All men?” he asks.

    “Yes.”

    “How old were you then, when you first…?”

    “When I first _experimented_? Five and twenty.”

    Here Moran fails to keep back a laugh, though not at Moriarty’s experiences, or lack of them, but at the contrast between Moriarty’s and his own histories. “Christ, I’d probably have exploded if I hadn’t fucked anyone before I was twenty-five, or my balls would’ve at least.”

    Moriarty too chuckles. “You over-exaggerate, pet.”

    “Not by much.” Moran plays idly with the edge of Moriarty’s waistcoat for a moment. “You didn’t want to _experiment_ sooner?”

    “It was not a priority, no.”

    “And when you did… did you like it?”

    Moriarty shrugs slightly. “I did not _dislike_ it; the physical sensations could certainly be most enjoyable. I simply did not see why it was something that other people seemed overly concerned with. I suppose I found that satisfying my urges with others was really no more intrinsically pleasurable than simply just relieving myself. I thought perhaps without _something_ to make it more interesting then it was not worth the continued effort and the risk of trying to procure a partner.” He narrows his eyes thoughtfully, recollecting events he has not even considered in many years now. “Those I did lie with seemed too amenable, too passive. Do not misunderstand me, Moran; I did not want someone who would try to dominate me, nor had I any wish to take someone by force, for such an act seemed like the behaviour of mere animals and I have always liked to think that I would not stoop to such a level. However, I wanted a challenge, and none of my past encounters were challenging.”

    Moran snorts again against Moriarty’s abdomen. “Was _I_ a challenge then, sir?”

    “You still are.” Moriarty runs his hand down the back of Moran’s neck, stroking him rather like one might stroke a pet cat or dog. “I wanted someone I could dominate fully whilst remaining certain that they were not simply submitting out of fear, or because I paid them to allow me to do as I wished to them. Any blundering fool can frighten another person into submission or buy their partner’s acquiescence. I wanted something more than that, and you, Sebastian… well, I always knew that you were not truly afraid of me. You had the measure of me from the start and yet the knowledge of how deadly I could be excited you.”

    Moran laughs again, the sound being partly muffled against Moriarty’s thigh. “You _still_ excite me.” He thinks of the electric thrill that runs through him when Moriarty takes control of him in their most intimate of games; when he is entirely at the professor’s mercy; when he may be bound or restrained or have many of his senses cut off; when even though he _is_ frightened of what potentially _could_ happen to him, he still trusts Moriarty absolutely never to cause him harm, so that his fear acts as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening his arousal and enhancing his release rather than stemming his desires. Even now, when they are both completely relaxed and he’s sure that Moriarty isn’t going to be interested in having sex tonight, these thoughts put a tingle in his loins.

    “I had noticed.” Moriarty regards him from beneath an arched eyebrow and Moran meets his gaze and chuckles some more.

    “So what _did_ you do with ‘em?” he asks, still with a faint grin on his face.

    “Nothing very much.”

    “But you fucked ‘em? I mean, well you know.” Moran giggles, hinting that perhaps he’s rather more drunk that he’s been letting on so far. “Up the arse.”

    “Sometimes, yes.”

    “But you never let them do the same to you?”

    Here Moriarty grips Moran by the arm and tugs him up, confusing him momentarily until Moran grasps what Moriarty wants and moves to sit in his lap. “You are well aware, Sebastian, that you were the first in that regard.” He puts his hands to Moran’s face, cradling his lover’s head lightly between his palms, drawing him gently into a soft kiss.

    Life with Moran has provided a succession of firsts for the professor – his first real kiss; his first time sleeping with a partner after sex; the first time he has allowed another man to penetrate him; the first time he has found that life with a companion is superior to a life of solitude; the first time he has ever come to care for another human being almost as much as he cares about himself.

    After the brief, sweet kiss Moran drops his gaze off to the side slightly as a thought seems to occur to him. “But if I was the first person you, well, could dominate fully, as you put it…”

    “Yes?” Moriarty continues to brush Moran’s cheek with the backs of the fingers of his right hand. The once perpetually wary, mistrustful Moran, the man who always shied away from any real intimacy, once would have scrutinised every kind word or gesture for the catch, sure there was mockery within the praise or expecting a caress to become a slap. Now though he does not merely accept Moriarty’s praise and his physical touches but actively relishes them, and this delights the professor, who now enjoys engaging in certain small acts, the kisses, the little touches, that give him no particular pleasure directly but do nonetheless give him endless pleasure because of how Moran reacts to them. Perhaps this is what it feels like, he muses sometimes, for a wild animal tamer when they realise that they have gained the loyalty and love of their charges; when they have not merely cowed them into submission through caging them and starving them and inflicting pain upon them but have truly earned their respect and trust.

    “Then you waited a very long time to find someone,” Moran says.

    “In truth, I had long since ceased looking. The matter did not overly concern me, and I assure you, my dear Moran, when I took you on I truly had no expectation that you might one day come to my bed and I never wished to coerce you there. I thought you aesthetically attractive, certainly.” Moriarty notices that this remark makes Moran grin slightly. “But I employed you for your skills and reliability. It was by a happy coincidence that you came to suit me very well in other regards. When it did become apparent to me that you desired me in a manner that might fit with my own more _intimate_ desires and needs, well…” He smiles one of those rare smiles that properly touch his eyes, making them seem so much warmer. “You were worth the wait, Sebastian.”

    Moran’s mouth quirks up at one side and his cheeks colour slightly. When he swallows it seems rather loud as he struggles to find adequate words to respond to this. “So were you, Professor,” he says. “So were you.”


End file.
